


Sanando Calumnae

by Alvrexadpot



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anal Sex, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:38:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6517060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvrexadpot/pseuds/Alvrexadpot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't post often at all cause I suck, sorry</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Arcade and Boone had planned the trip last night and by mid morning they were beginning their trek down Route 95 towards Novac. Boone had been planning on returning to his home for some time to retrieve a few items that he had left behind when the Courier had taken him in, and Arcade never passed up an opportunity to leave The Lucky 38.

It was fair to say Arcade didn't expect much conversation to come from his partner when they left In fact, Arcade only ever heard four words come out of the guys mouth, though he swore he heard a fifth when Boone thought he was by himself. But it didn't bother Arcade too much, just being out of that suite that was more dust and age than luxury was nice enough. Sure, the heat was especially dry today and the sun seemed near nuclear as it rose to the top of the sky, but he tried his best not to think much of it.

Escapes from the Lucky 38 didn't come often, since the infamous Courier would often sporadically need their services. But he was out with Cass now, dealing with some mass caravan conspiracy, or something along those lines, and wasn't expected back for another few days. That gave who was left; Veronica, Boone, and Arcade, the right to do as they pleased while their boss was away. Veronica did so by enjoying a casino or two or learning what she could at The Fort, while the other two only seemed to have errands to run when it came to free time.

They made it to the 188 Trading Post and it was obvious they weren't making very good time, by the time they hit Novac the day would just be at an end and night would already be swallowing up the desert. Boone made the executive decision that they would be staying the night in Novac to avoid any raiders that may be lurking in the dark; marking his word count up to 15, a silent victory for Arcade. They stopped off at the trading post for a break, Arcade taking the opportunity to get out of the sun and enjoy a meal that he'd been craving since they left Freeside.

If Boone was annoyed by the further delay he didn't show it, taking to wandering the overpass, always alert. Arcade swore if Boone ever slept he would sleep with that rifle tucked in his arms like a Pre-War stuffed bear.

They departed the trading post when Arcade was properly rested and the sun went past noon. The rest of the trip went on in silence, only stopping the occasional time Boone had to dispose of a fire ant wandering the road. Soon the dinosaur that shaped the Novac skyline grew larger as they drew near.

Arcade hadn't visited Novac in years, The Followers always kept him busy and he always was a tad afraid that if he was to return, he would find out Daisy had passed. Everything looked just the same, like everything seemed to, everything at a perpetual state of rot, barely holding together like it had for years, yet still managing to be habitable.

Arcade hung back while Boone revisited his apartment, knowing very well Boone was fond of personal space and privacy. Arcade instead occupied his time with revisiting his very old friend Daisy and exploring the little room reserved for the Courier.

Nightfall came and it became very apparent Boone wasn't seeking company for the night, or at least, not from the good doctor. Arcade expected it, he didn't expect any part of this trip to be very ground breaking in terms of them having an incredibly tense and awkward friendship.

So Arcade spent his night alone as well, happy to explore the tiny town of Novac. It wasn't often Arcade got to see a clear night sky, all the lights of Freeside and the better part of New Vegas muddied any sort of natural view. Out here in what the wastes could call suburbia, the sky was endless and he was reminded of his youth where he could see such a breathtaking site from the inside of an Enclave vertibird.

Arcade barely noticed that he wandered out of Novac heading East until he found himself walking past the bridge. He turned again, deciding that even though he was in plain site of the sniper's nest it would be best to stay near.

Before he made it past the bridge he had crossed he noticed movement to his right, probably a crow, or a stray gecko at the worst. Either way, his hand found his Ripper and his eyes went back to the sniper's nest, hoping whoever was taking the night shift would take care of it.

But the nest was clear, and he suddenly remembered that Boone was, or had been, night shift and Novac must have never bothered to find him a replacement. That was a bad move on the town's part and even worse when Arcade realised it wasn't any bird or gecko, but instead people and several at that.

Arcade was clearly outmatched so instead of fighting he chose to run, hoping he could make it to Boone's door before they caught up. But he made it about ten feet before he realised he was surrounded at all angles and they were only coming closer.

An arm slipped around his neck, he lost his footing from his shorter attacker and was left defenseless in a choke-hold. Breath was leaving him fast and none was coming back. He struggled the best he could, trying desperately to free himself, but his attacker was stronger and better trained. Even if he could break the hold, he was tightly cornered by the rest, unable to move a foot.

As his vision blurred and the world around him plunging deeper and deeper into darkness, he noticed something odd. Raiders would have gutted him by now, using in entrails as plaything and raiding his pockets for drugs. But his attackers was smart, calculated in their attack, and wearing a shade of crimson that told the world who they were. Dread swept over him and it wasn't just from his lack of oxygen. It would've been better if they killed him, but no, they wanted him for something else. Something far worse.

But there was little time for him to think as his consciousness slipped away from him and he was surrounded by black.

–

He woke up with the sun shining bright in his eyes and a headache that could split a bighorner skull in half. It took awhile for Arcade to regain his bearing and he found himself very far away from Novac and where he'd been attacked. With broken glasses he found himself further south, but he wasn't exactly sure where. He was at a small camp filled to the brim with Legion soldiers. His wrists were tied behind his back and he was chained with four others who looked about as bad as he felt.

Arcade was already thinking of a means of escape, but the pickings were slim since he was barely trained for the wasteland, and the pickings went down to nun when he deduced the device wrapped around his neck was the oh-so-fashionable bomb collar the Legion was incredibly fond of.

He looked to his prison mates, hoping they might have better ideas than hoping for a malfunctioning collar. That's when someone caught his eye, a man he'd met once before in a checkered suit. Benny.

He looked beaten, a black eye swelling shut and his suit, once so well tailored, now ripped, dirty, and frayed from abuse. His eyes went downwards, he looked a broken man. Arcade had never imagined seeing a man so filled with confidence and bravado look so lost and done with the world. One part of him knew Benny got what he deserved, but the other side knew no one deserved enslavement, especially from someone as horrible as the Legion.

Now, Arcade wondered how he got in this situation. Sure, trusting an empty sniper's nest and wandering the wasteland alone why probably why. But he wondered why him? Why not kill him like they so easily could? Maybe they were just recruiting people and he happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time like he often seemed to be.

But he feared something far more sinister.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Arcade couldn't consider himself a klutz, more a person with the worst luck this side of the Mojave. Though, in the past few hours, he'd come to realise that quite a few other shared that unluckiness.

They were assigned to be trained and worked in The Fort, serving some of the Legion's finest with any whim they might want. Arcade didn't think too much on what they could want with the women who were among the slaves. Though, the Legion was infamous for their society of bisexuality, but he didn't want to think about that either.

His captors took him towards Cottonwood Cove, a massively expanding slaver camp that served as an exclusive port to The Fort, where Arcade and his fellow slave-mates would be staying for the rest of their lives. Arcade had feared that this day would come, he just didn't expect it to be so soon, but the Legion had a habit of striking when you least expected it.

They were left to rest on the raft that would take them upriver, sitting in a room on their knees, which was bound to be uncomfortable soon and unbearable later. As luck would have it he was sat right beside Benny, a man who had gotten through life with cunning and dishonesty, but no amount of smooth talking could get him out of this, he was like his peers and at the end of the road. If Benny noticed Arcade at all from their brief encounter with the Courier, he didn't show it

Horror became a person and it was a slaver heading the caravan, he was tall and thick, built like a brick wall but agile and graceful like his comrades, thanks to the years of hard labour each had to endure to earn their keep. He had yet to speak, but held so much confidence and prowess that he didn't need to say a thing.

Unfortunately his presence because too much for one poor soul. Who took the one shot he had to launch himself into the river, using his last bits of hope to make it to the shore and find an escape. That hope also let him forget that even if he did reach land, the shock collar would surely end him before he could breath freedom.

But it was all lost when just as soon and he sank into water, the massive Legionary that watched over them had grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him back onto the craft. What came next was quick, so quick if Arcade was to blink he would miss it all, but he didn't, no one did.

The poor soul was left gasp and begging in between deep swallows of air. But before a full sentence could be uttered a machete was through his neck, slicing through until it hit the spine, then lodging into the bone as breath and blood flowed from the fresh exit straight through his next.

Arcade had seen his share of death through his life and more recently his career, but it was something new to see what he had to witness. He was horrified but unable to look away. The death before him was quick, and soon his body was slumped and dying the wood red with what little blood was given allowance to drain, but Arcade didn't think for a second it was without a great deal of pain.

They didn't dump the body immediately, removing some caps and the collar of his person, before kicking him off the raft. His body, still filled with air, floated at first, but as distance grew between them and the corpse, it slowly sank into the river, left to bloat and decompose.

The Fort grew larger as they floated closer to the horizon, they only had a few minutes before they were thrown into servitude and Arcade planned on praying to gods he never cared for before to get him out of this. Either they decided him not worthy or were just hard of hearing because Arcade was given no answer as they made it the front gates of Hell.

More Legionaries spilled out of gate, ready to watch every movement of their new captives to make sure there was no one even thinking of rebelling. Of course they all yearned to be free, but even the best laid plan did not take the explosive collars into consideration which was very well the Legion's trump card.

They were corralled them inside and lined them in a row, each one-by-one taken to where they would be serving for the rest of their newly miserable lives.

Arcade and Benny were the last in line to be assigned, and soon it was their time to face the chopping block, neither stood proud, fear on both their faces. The Legionary that came to face them was someone Arcade recognised, not that Arcade made his company around their kind. But he'd only seen him in passing, and on numerous bits of NCR propaganda littering most the Mojave. He knew the name before he ever saw the face, and even through a thick pair of goggles, he was recognisable instantly.

Vulpes Inculta did not introduce himself, not that any expected the courtesy. He spoke calmly, in a smooth, deathly chilly voice that was the stuff of nightmares, “Caesar would like to see both of you personally.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't post often at all cause I suck, sorry

Chapter 3

Arcade and Benny were escorted through camp towards the tent the dominated the center. Inside they were forced to kneel in front of n empty throne, expected to wait for their new lord and master. On Arcade's left was Vulpes, who was one of the few to keep the two in line. Arcade swore if those 'fashionable' skirts they wore were a inch shorter, he could see much more than he wanted to. And from the look on Benny's face, he was likely thinking the same thing.

Benny's gaze cast towards Arcade finally, the spark in his eyes one of recognition. “Aren't you the doctor who was following Six?” 

Before Arcade could think of something to say back; there was a swift kick planted into Benny's stomach. He lurched forward and groaned in pain. A guard demanded there silence and the tent flap closing off the back of the tent opened.

Caesar arrived not long after, for some reason Arcade imagined him taller, more threatening. But the legend himself looked like an average aging man. The only thing remarkable about him was the clothing he wore and the throne he sat on. The weight of his power was carried in his name and actions.

Benny was lifted and dragged to meet Caesar first as he cough and gasped along the way. Arcade was forced to sit and watch, the anxiety eating him up. His gaze went back up to Vulpes, hoping he would give any sign on what to expect. He was given none, Vulpes looked straight forward, patiently waiting to serve.

A wry smile crossed Arcade's lips when he imagined how happy they would all be to kiss Caesar's ass. But it was lost the moment a harsh glare was shot by one of the guards.

Benny was soon pleading with Caesar for mercy and release. Whatever they had been discussing it must not have been good. It only made him more nervous. Any attempt for Arcade to make light of the situation was out the window, or in this case, the tent flap.

Benny was dragged aside, kicking and screaming whatever get could come up with. He was knocked out to with a gun butt to the skull. Shutting his up finally. Vulpes hand grabbed onto Arcade's arm and he hoisted him up. He nearly dragged him to face Caesar who waited for the good doctor.

The bomb collar on his neck suddenly felt tighter and the daylight felt brighter and hotter. He couldn't begin to imagine what Caesar could want from him. He was just some Follower's doctor, and not even that great a one.

Caesar didn't speak for a moment, observing the man before him like he was a scientific specimen. or an item he had obtained. Arcade suppressed a shiver.

“I'd been expecting you for some time now.” Caesar started. Arcade didn't speak, though he already had a myriad of questions. “The Courier from Primm, Six, he had signed you to me.”

Arcade's blood went cold. Six? Why would Six sell him to the worst band of slaver's this side of the Mojave? Sure Six always seemed a little distant, disappearing on days on end like that. Not disclosing his plans to anyone...

Arcade should have seen it sooner.

He was too wrapped up in his own mess that he didn't even hear Caesar demand for the room to be cleared. All that was left was Caesar himself and a few of his higher-ups, including Vulpes. Even with fewer people, it didn't make Arcade feel any safer.

Caesar spoke again, his hands folding in his lap as he leaned closer. “Arcade, Six and myself decided you were the best fit for the situation I'm in.” His eyes leveled, he was speaking calmly, almost as smoothly as Vulpes' monotone. “Doctor's have found a tumor in my brain, it is operable but no one here has the expertise to treat it.”

Words finally came back to Arcade, “You think I could treat it?” Arcade had experience, and he of course had a good understanding of the brain. But he never went to digging around in one, at least not one attached to a living person. Especially not from one of the most evil people to walk the wasteland.

“You can and you will.” He didn't need to add the 'or else' at the end because there clearly was going to be an 'or else' if he messed up in any way. “I will allow some time for you to brush up on any research you will need to do before the operation. But I will not allow stalling. Do you understand?”

Speech failed him once again he cursed his cowardice. He nodded quickly, and was becoming putty right in Caesar's blood ridden hands.

Caesar smiled with malice clear on his face. His instructed him of his living arrangements. He would sleep in a tent not far from Caesar's. He would always on the clock should pain or directionless staring overtake him. As far as slavery went, he didn't have the worst deal. But slavery was still slavery and Arcade was just as replaceable as anyone else.

Arcade was escorted out of the tent, Benny left to the side, still blacked out. Arcade, despite being trapped at all angles two legionaries at his side, was still trying to find a way out. But the only escape he could find was a gruesome death. And he had a certain fondness for having his blood remain in his body.

He looked to his side, at Vulpes, who seemed had the emotional range of a Banana Yucca Fruit. “So what happens after I remove the tumor?”

Vulpes didn't speak at first. And Arcade figured he wasn't going to say anything at all. They reached his tent which wasa pathetic little thing with just a bed and a lamp. He finally spoke, “Then we'll find another use for you. Or not.”

He was deposited there, expected to sleep like his life no longer belonged to him in the worst kind of way. He couldn't believe that this was his life now, something not worth living. He hoped for a misunderstanding, he begged for something to change. To finally wake up and realise he was still in Novac.

But sleep wasn't coming and he was destined to be stuck here


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sunrises in the Mojave just weren't as pretty with a bomb collar nearly strangling you. Then again, you couldn't call it sunrise when two legionaries entered his tent and commanded Arcade to rise. He must have slept for a minute or two at least because he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard them enter. Arcade wasn't even given a second to imagine he was still outside of the Legion camp, no, he wasn't given any comfort that he never had to experience this.

They didn't ask a second time when he proved too slow. Instead, they both grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him up, and nearly dragging him out until he found his footing. He was lead directly to Caesar's quarters, where Benny still remained. He still couldn't imagine why Benny was here, he didn't have any skills that the Legion could find exploitable. But his guess was as good as anyone's.

Caesar was already up, perched on his throne and apparently trying his best to look like the master of the land. But in all honesty, he didn't look as special as someone would think. He was old, lines from battle, sun, and age carved up his face. He looked tired, despite the unseasonably cool day, he was sweating. Caesar was dying and it was a blessing to the Mojave. However, Arcade could not rejoice, because he was the man made to save him.

He was of course surrounding by some of the highest officials in his army. Arcade could recognise quite a few of them from the NCR propaganda that littered the desert more than the radscorpions. Each one he had been warned would kill a person in an instant, and in that moment, he was sure it was true.

But the one most striking to him was Vulpes, whom he met yesterday. He finally had a chance to get a good look at him. He was strikingly pale, even putting Arcade's own fair tone to shame. If he didn't know better, he would suspect Vulpes never once seen the light of day. He looked patient, not bored, but perhaps just waiting for something better. Maybe death would befall Arcade sooner than he imagined.

“I've prepared some literature for you to start your research.” Caesar began, startling Arcade out of his own head, “You'll be preparing until you're fit to begin the operation.”

Arcade peaked over his new leader's shoulder to find stacks upon stacks of books piled on top of the large table behind him. At least they we're giving him a fighting chance to do this instead of throwing him in dry.

“I don't suppose you'll be giving me a terminal to take notes on?” Arcade regretted what he said the instant it came out of his mouth. Of course he would be a smart ass in front of a room full of people who could kill him with both hands behind their respective backs.

Several of them scowled, already ready to beat sense back into Arcade. But Caesar raised a hand just as one of them was about to step forward, causing him to stop dead in his tracks.

“You will have to make due with whats provided.” Arcade couldn't entirely be sure, but he could almost detect amusement in his voice. Arcade could breath again, he was safe for now.

Arcade decided to keep him mouth shut and just nodded. The two legionaries behind him shoved him forward when he wasn't quick enough to get to work. He quickly made it to Caesar's quarters. Finding not only the books on the tables, but even more littering the room. An aging Praetorian sat at one of the few chairs at the table, looking annoyed to be interrupt during his own studies. He however didn't look interested enough to speak up.

Near Caesar's bed was an Auto-Doc that had seen much better days. Arcade was astonished to see any form of tech in the camp, especially perched right next to where Caesar slept at night.

Arcade didn't notice Caesar had followed along until he spoke, referring to the Auto-Doc the blonde had been gawking at, “We've exhausted every option, even avenues that defy our morals.” Caesar approached the machine, “It seems to be missing an important module that we've been unable to find despite our best efforts. You are -in essence- the Mojave's last hope for true greatness.”

He frowned, it now was incredibly clear that it was either Caesar lived, and the dessert he knew would cease to exist, or he would die. Arcade was a realist, he knew his own life wasn't worth that of the thousands out there. But dammit, he wasn't a fan of just how horrible they would kill him. When Caesar rose to power, he would have no one to blame but himself.

“I'll leave you to it. Our dear Siri will provide to you dinner when nightfall comes.” Was the last thing he said before he left Arcade to his task.

Arcade felt sick, but he had to push it down. He had work to do and he didn't plan to die that day.

He found a chair awaiting him and he took it. In front of him were a stack of files labeled as Caesar's medical files. He opened up to first one to find X rays spanning his entire body.

Caesar in theory was fairly healthy, arthritis was forming in his knee, and his lungs could've seen better days. But when you burn entire tribes, the smoke was bound to cause damage. Arcade found the X ray of his skull and he spotted the tumor immediately. A large, dark spot rested just above his eyes. If Arcade would ever be able to fix it, it would be difficult at best. He wasn't the man for the job, definitely. Though there weren't any other options anymore.

He grimaced, already feeling the pressures on him we're far too high. He couldn't imagine coming out successful in this. He leaned back in his chair, looking over at the man across from him, the Praetorian. He was hunched over his reading, scrawling out notes on a stack of paper. He looked increasingly more annoyed at being disturbed, though likely too proud to voice it. He wondered why he was bothered to badly. Maybe he didn't like sharing space with slaves.

Arcade's focus drew to the entrance of Caesar's quarters, where Vulpes stood ever vigilant beside his lord. Arcade could swear that he saw Vulpes looking back at him for just a second before going back to his task. But it must've been the heat that was playing tricks on him.


End file.
